A Dog Named Spirit
There once was a dog named Spirit.
Or at least I think there was. This is something I have been wanting to write about for a long time, and I dedicate it to all dog lovers everywhere...
On my walk this sunny afternoon, I recalled how a few short years ago, in the crucible of a great depression - I encountered a beautiful small white dog, who made an incredible impression on my life...
He approached the fence demarcating his yard from the walking path as I passed his home, and he gracefully placed his paw strategically on the fence, and then he bared his side, waiting for me to scratch him. I obliged his desire - and continued to do so every time I saw him afterward, even though I have never had a dog of my own. He never made a noise - never barked - and was the friendliest little guy I ever encountered. Somehow, on some level, we connected very deeply, and I looked forward to coming round the bend to the boundary of his yard and our inevitable encounters...
For several years, he was always there. As soon as I approached his yard, he made a bee line towards the fence. I know he recognized me. He would always place his paw on the fence, and squeeze in as close to it as he could, and expose the area on his stomach where I knew he wanted to be scratched.
I talked to him every time, and I know he listened. He had kind and wise old eyes. I had no idea what kind of dog he was - or even how old he was...
He always seemed respectful, and wagged his tail at everyone that walked passed him.
One day, as I was nearing my time out of this long period of depression, I decided to see if I could get a look at his dog tag - it was always out of reach to me, and I was curious about his name. I struggled to get to it - sticking my fingers through the small holes in the chicken wire - trying to maneuver my fingers the best I could and move the tag into a position where I could read his name.
This dog patiently waited for me to complete my task. I had attempted this endeavor before to no avail, and I had even considered knocking on the door of his owners to inquire about him. But on this day, I was able to get a glimpse of his name. The tag said "Spirit."
I continued to see the dog on occasion, and then one day - he was not there anymore. In his place was a rather unpleasant dog who barked ferociously at me, and for the first time I was glad there a fence on that property separating us.
I never saw Spirit again...
I have often wondered - did something happen to him? Was he real? Or was he an angel sent my way by God during a particularly trying time? They say that angels sometimes come to us when needed, and then disappear. They often even take on other forms. It has been noted before that the word "dog" is "god" spelled backwards...
I don't know if he was an angel sent to me or not. All I know is he touched me and made a difference - and I will never forget him. And that makes him an angel to me. He earned his name. He will always be a manifestation of "Spirit" to me!
Or at least I think there was. This is something I have been wanting to write about for a long time, and I dedicate it to all dog lovers everywhere...
On my walk this sunny afternoon, I recalled how a few short years ago, in the crucible of a great depression - I encountered a beautiful small white dog, who made an incredible impression on my life...
He approached the fence demarcating his yard from the walking path as I passed his home, and he gracefully placed his paw strategically on the fence, and then he bared his side, waiting for me to scratch him. I obliged his desire - and continued to do so every time I saw him afterward, even though I have never had a dog of my own. He never made a noise - never barked - and was the friendliest little guy I ever encountered. Somehow, on some level, we connected very deeply, and I looked forward to coming round the bend to the boundary of his yard and our inevitable encounters...
For several years, he was always there. As soon as I approached his yard, he made a bee line towards the fence. I know he recognized me. He would always place his paw on the fence, and squeeze in as close to it as he could, and expose the area on his stomach where I knew he wanted to be scratched.
I talked to him every time, and I know he listened. He had kind and wise old eyes. I had no idea what kind of dog he was - or even how old he was...
He always seemed respectful, and wagged his tail at everyone that walked passed him.
One day, as I was nearing my time out of this long period of depression, I decided to see if I could get a look at his dog tag - it was always out of reach to me, and I was curious about his name. I struggled to get to it - sticking my fingers through the small holes in the chicken wire - trying to maneuver my fingers the best I could and move the tag into a position where I could read his name.
This dog patiently waited for me to complete my task. I had attempted this endeavor before to no avail, and I had even considered knocking on the door of his owners to inquire about him. But on this day, I was able to get a glimpse of his name. The tag said "Spirit."
I continued to see the dog on occasion, and then one day - he was not there anymore. In his place was a rather unpleasant dog who barked ferociously at me, and for the first time I was glad there a fence on that property separating us.
I never saw Spirit again...
I have often wondered - did something happen to him? Was he real? Or was he an angel sent my way by God during a particularly trying time? They say that angels sometimes come to us when needed, and then disappear. They often even take on other forms. It has been noted before that the word "dog" is "god" spelled backwards...
I don't know if he was an angel sent to me or not. All I know is he touched me and made a difference - and I will never forget him. And that makes him an angel to me. He earned his name. He will always be a manifestation of "Spirit" to me!
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